We ate the evening meal and settled down for Bear’s lesson. He was a bright lad, quick to pick up on things, but if the subject under discussion had little to do with daily life, he did not retain the knowledge, at least not as thoroughly as John. War Eagle was a mental sponge, hearing, learning, and storing knowledge away for later use.
* * * *
Early the next afternoon as we weeded the near field, a horseman drew the boy’s attention. I followed his gaze. Even from a quarter of a mile away, I recognized the rider.
“It’s John,” Bear said. “What’s he doing here?”
“Come to see if you made it to the farm or froze to death somewhere along the way, I’d guess.”
Bear made a noise through his lips. Despite his attempt to hide it, joy stole over his features.
“Go on. Make him welcome.” As Bear scampered for the bridge, John waved and kicked Arrow into a trot.